


A Little Bit

by senoritablack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gabriel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senoritablack/pseuds/senoritablack
Summary: It takes a second for Sam to realize the bit, but he catches on pretty quickly. It gets progressively more ridiculous from then on.
Relationships: Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	A Little Bit

It starts in a cafe, where the barista heaps extra whipped cream onto Gabriel’s honey-orange latte because he’s just that fuckin’ sweet. 

Gabriel gets Sam at the ankle with the toe of his boot and mouths “sweet” with raised brows that seem to say “ _see, she gets it._ ” Sam rolls the remark off his shoulders and gives a quick thanks to the cashier as they withdraw from the counter. 

It happens everywhere.

Gabriel doesn’t have to do much, not really, to command a room—minutes from walking through the threshold of some mom and pop diner, he’s undoubtedly coaxed a laugh out of the surliest of costumer service workers who always seem to have seen way too much and are much more pessimistic because of it (probably not far off from the truth). It does help that Gabriel, is a _big_ tipper.

Sam and Gabriel make their way towards the condiment station and Sam snags a few things before leading way towards two seats by the window. Gabriel sits down and frowns when he sees that Sam’s already three scoops into his yogurt.

“Ahem.” Gabriel pronounces prissily. Sam pauses mid-chew and swallows before replying.

“What?”

“Where’s _my_ spoon?”

Sam eyes widen in realization, in what Gabriel suspects (hopes) is shame, before he snorts. He resumes his damn excavation towards the bottom of his parfait. He’s gotten to the macerated mixed-berries and Gabriel is in _no_ way jealous. 

“Dude, you saw me grab mine. Why didn’t you get one for yourself?” Sam finally says, before he takes a large sip of coffee. Gabriel narrows his eyes.

“You know what,” Gabriel says, nodding towards the cashier, “Vera would never treat me this way.”

Sam scoffs.

“Okay, sure.” Sam says, wiping at his mouth with a napkin and then throwing it down on the counter, “But Veronica only knows the cute guy who tips well, so of course she wouldn’t.” 

Sam laughs at Gabriel's put-upon face and offers his plastic spoon as a token of peace. Gabriel ignores him and snaps a silver spoon into his dish. It looks very expensive. 

Gabriel mixes his own yogurt, coloring it blue with fruit and pauses his first bite to say, “Know that’s suppose to be an insult, but all I hear is that you think I’m cute.”

“Cute, right.” Sam decides it's best to agree.

Then Sam gives into his need-to-know compulsions and goes for the spoon. Gabriel hisses a quick " _hey"_ as Sam examines it for a few seconds before sticking it back into Gabriel’s container. He’d been right, of course. It’s like, an antique. Gabriel hugs the expensive spoon and cheap yogurt he's been reunited with towards himself like Sam’s threatened to hurt them. Sam settles himself back into his chair.

“You’re also a bunch of things that only _I_ can deal with.” Sam adds. 

“I don’t know that I appreciate what you’re implying. Let’s go fishing in Italy.”

“You’re not meant to. And _no._ Case in point.”

“Nudity is involved.” Gabriel says, slowly pulling the thousand-dollar yogurt spoon from his mouth.

“Okay then.” Sam says, flicking through a newspaper.

“Really?”

“ _No_ , but feel free to ask _Veronica_ if she’d like to go nude fishing with you in another country at,” Sam checks his watch, “11am on a Tuesday. Send me a post card.”

—

Gabriel is fumbling around for the cup holder when Sam snatches his drink and downs it in one go. He burps into a closed fist before wrapping an arm around Gabriel’s chair. Gabriel turns in the embrace and watches Sam’s face lit up in the title credit of the film. It’s either that he’s not registered that he’d done it, drank the last of their cola, or that he is a really good liar. Gabriel sees the smirk, just barely before he relents. So, not surprisingly, _a really good liar_.

“You’re charming, you know that?” Gabriel says.

“Southern boy through and through.” Sam whispers. He’s got the audacity to still watch the screen as if he’s not being put on trial. 

“You’re from Kansas. Hardly the south.”

“And you’re from Heaven.Can't you miracle us up a new drink? Thanks, Garçon. _Snap snap_.” Sam says.

Gabriel is momentarily at a loss for words, looking for them in the dark spaces of the theatre.

“I’m—I’m in awe. This from Dean, sure, but you? It’s just sad. I’m sad for you, no, actually, I’m sad for me.”

Sam looks at him with a sincere face and notes, “You seem…upset.”

“I am. How am I to love and trust again? Might need a real professional.” Gabriel tries to throw the arm around him off.

Sam holds onto him tighter.

“Or, you know, you can _snap_ out of it.” 

Sam doubles over and the people next to them look less annoyed at the interruption and more as if he’s completely lost it. Gabriel wants to tell them that he 100% agrees.

“You know, Gary from the concession stand would never treat me this way.”

It takes a second for Sam to realize the bit, when he’s sure he’s heard something similar from Gabriel before, but he catches on pretty quickly.He shrugs and pulls Gabriel closer into his embrace.

“Hmm, Gary’s probably on his last vape break, so, uh, go get him tiger!” Sam says, shoveling in a handful of popcorn.

It gets progressively more ridiculous from then on.

—

The sun is unforgiving and shade of the trees, fickle, their leaves swaying to and from with the summer breeze. Sam’s lying with his head in Gabriel’s lap. They’ve gotten in the habit of reading funny romance novels to each other. Today is Sam's turn to read.

“You mind scrounging up some type of umbrella or I dunno, canopy? It’s getting pretty warm.” Sam says, wiping sweat from his forehead with a wrist. Gabriel looks down at Sam and pauses his work on a cannoli.

“You’ll be wanting me to fan you and feed you grapes next. Slippery slope.” He uses the cannoli as emphasis and a drop of cream falls on Sam’s cheek. Gabriel’s response, of course, is to bend down and lick it off. He retreats with a very unattractive and wet kiss.

“Come _on_ ,” Sam says in disgust, and adds, “actually, grapes sound kinda good.”

“No dice.”

“Seriously? I don’t ask for anything.”

“What and my help fighting my own bro was not _anything_?”

“It was to stop the _apocalypse_ , you kidding me? And we literally had to trap you in holy oil just to get you to face up to the millennia of bullshit you and your family caused. It was bad.”

“Aaaaaaand all I got out of that was a painful death, a skeevy resurrection, and a salty hunter with his 30 some odd years of trust issues. So, who’s got it really bad here, hmm, buddy?”

“Remind me to make you a t-shirt that says that.” Sam says.

“Hope you enjoy your sunburn.” Gabriel says. He finishes his cannoli, lewdly slurping the excess cream off his finger tips.

“You know what? Brenden would never treat me this way.” Sam says.

“Who?”

“Lucia’s serial killer boyfriend. You even paying attention?”

“Oh, pardon me for not courting you the way one should before—” Gabriel reads a little of the page Sam’s on, “—I decapitate you with a rear glass window shard.”

“Hey, he’d never kill Lucia. He’s killing killers, for her.”

Gabriel looks down at him at incredulously. His eyebrow cut up.

“Very on brand for you, Sammy.” Gabriel moves his legs, effectively letting Sam's head fall into the grass. Gabriel falls on his back and pillows his head in his hands. Sam sits up and glares down at Gabriel, whose eyes are now close and lips are curled.

“Anyway," Gabriel says, "I’m enjoying the heat! By all means, find yourself a parasol wielding Dexter. ” 

-

It’s no secret he’s a proud being. So finding the words to admit of his wrong doings has always been a laborious battle. Gabriel’s fighting that same fight today. And he’s losing. 

Against professional advice, he had decided to adopt a plant that’s not native to Kansas. It’s not that plants aren’t resilient, or that they cannot thrive in places other than their origin, it’s just that these types take work. He figured— _hello_ , _archangel_ —things can’t die under his divine care. 

Three weeks later, back from a long hunt into some Djinn hive, he’s figured wrong.

These particular leaves have shriveled up and fallen unto the carpet. Gabriel squats in front of it, carefully expecting it for injuries the way a doctor would. When he’s pulled it from it’s pot, hoping that maybe, _just maybe_ it could be salvageable with new soil and a better draining system, he’s seen that its roots look beyond _humanly_ repair (or, admittedly, soupy and non-existent). But he almost doesn’t want to angel-cheat it back to health because he’s that disappointed. 

“Oh man, um, I’m sorry, Gabe.” Sam says from behind him.

Gabriel thinks that Sam really is trying to be sincere here— _trying_. It’s obvious that Sam's holding back a laugh with every shake of his head and clearing of his throat while Gabriel’s eyes flicker from his mistreated plant child and back. Gabriel pulls at a squishy yellow leaf and it’s branch, rotted and miserable, lets it loose before quite dramatically falling down in the dirt.

“Why can I only hear ‘I told you so.’” Gabriel says, standing back up.

“Way to reach, dude. You’ve got my full emotional support, swear.” Sam says, but his carefully constructed walls are starting to break. 

This time, yeah, there it is, Sam can’t hold back the smirk. Gabriel’s caught the bastard, even if Sam goes as far as trying to hide it behind his hand. Gabriel sighs.

“You’re like, a plant serial killer.” Sam says, because he just can't fucking help himself anymore, apparently.

“Well, that’s uncalled for and very extreme.”

“Hey, once is an isolated incident,” and Sam points around the room towards all the pots who have all been emptied and cleaned out due to neglect and mistreatment, “five times is a pattern.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Gabriel says. He's walks towards Sam's computer and types in "plant going away care" into the internet browser.

“But right.” Sam says, following him. Sam laughs when he catches sight of the screen. 

“You know, Christopher, from the plant department in Lowes, he’d never treat me this way.”

“Okay, sure, but it’d be like a butcher dating a vegan. Then again, if the love is there, I’m sure you can make it work.”

— 

Sam’s fending off an attack by a vampire, trying his best not to miss any dilapidated rung of the rickety stairwell that’s ascending a bubbling barrel of weird goo. He’d almost managed to get the unconscious Dean out of his binds, when the vampire line backed him. 

Of course, this was also when Gabriel popped into the warehouse conspicuously calm and quite disinterested in the fact that Sam’s slung half way off the stairs with a vampire on top of him. 

From his vantage point, upside down and side ways, between trying to right himself and _not_ be bitten or tossed into the mystery barrel, he catches a glimpse of Gabriel fiddling with a piece of origami paper. The next time Sam’s body swings to and from, he sees that Gabriel’s folded it twice now. 

“How's it hanging?” Gabriel says without looking from his folds.

“You’re such—“ Sam grunts as a vampire punches him in the groin, his eyes waters and neck flares in pain”—dick.”

“I’m getting good at this, Sammy-san! I’ll teach ya how to make a crane when ya stop goofin’ around up there.” Gabriel looks at him unimpressed.

“Goofin—you know—shit,” Sam says as he propels the vampire off of him. It falls into the barrel, hisses and screams while Sam lies on his back tries to catch his breath. 

“Where the hell were you?” Sam yells.

“I was watching t.v., honing my craft.” Gabriel replies.

“T.v.? Cool, yeah, anything good on?” Sam says sarcastically.

“No, but ask me what you will about car insurance, must have seen the same commercial a thousand times.”

Gabriel is still folding. Sam’s whole body hurts. 

“So, post insurance and origami mastery, what, you didn’t feel at all inclined to, _I don’t know_ , help me?”

“Hey, I got here and the situation seemed handled! I’d of stepped in if there was any real threat.”

“Any real—you know what, Jake from state farm wouldn’t treat me this way.” 

“Maybe so, but, like a good neighbor, I’ve decided to mind my own business.”

“What? No, that’s not…” Sam grunts as he finally sits up and looks down to Gabriel. Sam considers the horse that he’s made. Gabriel conjures the little guy to gallop its way onto Sam’s upturn palm. Sure, it’s pretty good, but he’s not going to reward Gabriel with that. He finishes his earlier thought instead.

“For the record, Jake would _be there_.”

Gabriel snaps himself in front of Dean and heals his wounds. But Dean doesn’t stir. Sam thinks that Gabriel’s used some sly mojo just so he didn’t have to hear two Winchesters bitch at him.

“Okay, you and Jakey _go there_ and have full coverage fun. Sleeping beauty and I are heading back to the bunker for some R&R. I could use a nap.” 

— 

Sam’s pretty good at taking down moving targets. He’s already won a few games that require ample use of his practiced dexterity and skill. The prizes are of all sizes and animal varieties, and Sam’s been sharing his earnings with children whose parents look incredibly grateful for having quelled the pleads and demands of their respective adorable little shits. 

Gabriel thinks it’s really cute. It makes him go all soft for Sam in ways that he won’t ever say aloud, because Sam is insufferable when Gabriel says anything remotely sappy. Like, he always makes Gabriel regret it. Anyway, this all would be more cute if Sam would win him the damn narwhal he’s not-so-subtly been hinting at. Sam rolls his eyes when Gabriel finally bites his pride to straight out ask for one. 

“You know, Shane and Co would never treat me this way” Gabriel says when he’s rejected.

“Hmm” Sam starts, then a dart flies and lands right between the last of his quaking ducks. As he’s won again, he hands a sloth to a three-tooth thing with sticky, apple caramel hands and smug eyes. “Looks like you should have went to Jared.” He finishes. 

—

Sam wakes up slowly, blinking as his eyes adjust to the sunlight. He exhales his disappointment to find the beige room, as sterile and uninviting as it’d been when he fell asleep. Gabriel is lounging in the fold out next to him, eating Sam’s breakfast. 

When Sam asks for a cup of water Gabriel says “oh, now you want my help.”

It’s true, he could have healed Sam with a quick touch, but Sam was taken in by the paramedics that were on the crime scene they’d been investigating for a case when he fell down a slope of forest and broke his ankle; it would have been too risky.

“You know, Leticia the orthopedic surgeon, who wheeled me into the cafeteria and offered me Irish coffee and a homemade omelet at 6am when she noticed I hadn’t gotten much sleep, wouldn’t treat me this way.”

“Drinking on the job, huh? Guess that’s already a few things you two crazy kids have in common—a savior complex and a dubiously controlled addiction. Hope she gets a prenup.”

—

One day Team Free Will is granted a day off. They choose to do nothing, _Winchester style_ , complete with booze and trash television playing in the background to their poker game.

Gabriel’s in the kitchen cooking, or has been in the kitchen cooking a Desi feast all day. Dean and Sam fork fight over the last potato paratha.

“Gabe, tell me you’re making more snacks!” Sam yells.

“The hell do you think I’ve been doing all day?” Gabriel yells back.

“Yeah, yeah. HURRY! Dean’s starting to eat the chutney with a spoon. ”

Sam swats at Dean with his fork again, and Dean holds his own like he’s pulled Excalibur from its stone. Sam accepts the challenge, and they momentarily forget about poker, sparring over the table. In this time, Cas has stolen the last of the paratha. Sneaky bastard. 

Gabriel saunters out of the kitchen, shouldering his way into view of the war room and wielding a wooden spatula and wiping his free hand with the kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder.

“‘Member Kali, she once set life or death trial to an entire town worth of men because I mentioned their lack of respect for women and fashion, and she would never treat me this way. ” 

“See, the only thing that concerns me there is the implication that you know fashion. But anyway, why don’t you freedom fight your way back to Kali, and I could just order a large pepperoni for take out.” Sam says and puts down his fork. 

Dean tries jabs him in the forearm. Sam slaps it away before it connects. Sam considers his cards again, and displays his hand, he looks to Dean and Cas who’s followed him—looks like Sam’s lost the round. Gabriel, who Sam has gone back to ignoring, throws his kitchen towel at the back of Sam’s head and makes his way back to his cooking.

“Dude, why are you so, like, mean to Gabriel?” Dean asks.

“What?” Sam says, gathering back all the cards and shuffling them in a stack. 

“You’re always telling him to fuck off with someone.” Dean says with a tip of his beer.

“No I don’t.” Sam says, finding that his own beer is nearly empty.

“Hmm, you do, Sam. And I don’t know if I’d be encouraged to, er, stay any longer at the bunker should Dean say any of those things to me.” Cas says. 

He looks down into his hands, and he sighs. Dean knocks him with his shoulder and rolls his eyes. Cas smiles, just a bit, but it’s gone in another second. 

“It’s really not a big deal, guys. Cas, honestly, quit with the look, he won’t, you know,” Sam waves vaguely behind him, “actually go off with someone else.”

“He can literally do whatever he wants.” Dean says. He pantomimes a snap and flaps a folded arm like a chicken. It’s Sam’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, and he’s doing me.” Sam snorts. He takes his bottle and finishes it off. He stands and collects the empty bottles around the table. 

“Oh, okay, alright! Come on, man, we didn’t have to go there.” Dean says.

“You took it there!” Sam says.

“I was just saying, you hurt the little guys feelings. I didn’t even know he had feelings. But you hurt them, alright?”

“I hurt—Dean, are you actually worried about Gabriel?” Sam cradles the beer bottles into his chest and raises his eyebrows. 

“What? No!” Dean denies.

“You gunna give me the old, ‘if you ever hurt him I’ll hurt you’?” Sam laughs. 

“Shut up.” Dean says as he stands. He takes his beer and tugs on Cas’ shoulder, silently telling him to follow him towards the couch.

“Aw, it’s okay to feel, Dean.” Sam shouts as he makes his way towards the kitchen, “We all feel.”

— 

Sam’s still laughing when he finds Gabriel there. 

“Hey, does it upset you when I tell you to go broaden your horizons?” Sam asks, though he knows the answer. 

He looks around to all of ingredients and tools he’s definitely never seen in the bunker before. There’s a blender, a pot, and a motor and pestle. Some red stuff and yellow stuff and greens he thinks is cilantro. _Or is it parsley_? All to say, it all looks very elaborate and out of Sam’s scope of knowledge and patience. 

“Mean, I could do better.” Gabe says, draining pre-soaked cashews and then throwing them into the blender.

“Oh, obviously.” Sam says.

He stands to the side and watches Gabriel work. Gabriel tosses in a can of tinned tomatoes into the blender too. 

“Why, does it upset you when I tell ya to raise your bar?” Gabriel asks.

He tosses in a paste that smells like garlic and ginger and maybe onion, spoons in a few colorful spices and herbs Sam couldn’t be damned to name, into some melted buttery stuff and it all sizzles and smells so good though it doesn’t look like much of anything yet. He really can’t wait to taste the final dish.

“No, because I could do better.” Sam says. And then he watches when Gabriel pours the tomato and cashew puree into pot with the paste. It boils and splashes a little too wildly before calming down. Sam falls back a little, barely missing getting splashed.

“Sure can, bebe. Pass the masala.” Gabriel says as he stirs.

“Which one is masala?” Sam asks. His hands hover over the jars of spices, waiting for Gabriel’s confirmation.

“Spice mix.”

“There’s a lot of spices out, _Gabe_.” 

“There’s only one that is mixed, _Samosa_.” Sam spots it and hands it over. 

He steps behind Gabriel, encircling him around the waist. Gabriel hums and leans back into the embrace. 

“Good thing I’ve got my wide array of available lovers, who all probably know what garam masala is.” Gabriel says.

Sam rests his chin atop Gabriel’s head as Gabriel starts to dry toast off the masala in the a different pan. The smell wades through the air, mixes in with the garlic and ginger permeating the room, and Sam’s mouth waters as the sweet and savory reaches him. He’s always loved Gabriel’s cooking.

“Good thing I’ve got that exhaustive list of Winchesters-to-be who all know humility.”

“Becky, now there was a _humble_ catch.” Gabriel says. He tosses in the toasted masala into the puree, shoveling in blocks of farmers cheese and frozen peas right after.

“God, I hate you.” Sam says and presses a languid kiss to Gabriel’s temple. 

“Noted. Reciprocated. Now hand me the coriander and kashuri methi.”

When Sam tenses behind him, Gabriel turns into Sam’s embrace to find the look of badly hidden confusion on his face. He pats Sam’s shoulder patronizingly, before brushing down Sam’s cheek with his knuckles. 

“Does it hurt being that dumb?” Gabriel asks.

“You know what…” 

But Sam doesn’t get to tell him what—the retort is captured by Gabriel’s quick kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> This all started because I couldn't the idea of Sabriel telling each other to fuck off, but you know, lovingly. And because I was obsessed with one of them saying, "Shane and co would never treat me this way." Thanks for reading. Hope you're in good health.


End file.
